Passion's Crossfire

Chapter 117

Mallory

I glance around the study, surrounded by the remnants of cardboard and tape. Determination fuels my movements as I finally delve into the last of the lingering boxes that have been haunting this space for too long. Every time my eyes catch those boxes, irritation flares within me. Today, though, I am resolute – this ends now. Adam will be home soon, and I'm determined to have this room in order before he walks through that door.

The monotonous task of unboxing and organizing books on the shelves becomes a dull rhythm, the excitement of the initial exploration fading. Each slice through the tape, each opening of the flaps, and each placement of a book feels like a chore. Genre by genre, size by size, I arrange them meticulously, my mind wandering as I perform this mundane ritual.

Finally, the last box sits before me. I slice through the tape, open the flaps, and my fingers dance over the pages of the books within. Pride and Prejudice, a timeless classic. I wish I could read it again for the first time. As I flip through its pages, a few envelopes slip from between the leaves and scatter to the floor.

Confusion clouds my thoughts as I gaze at the envelopes, neatly tucked among the fallen leaves of paper. Carefully placing the book on the shelf, I stoop to gather the letters, holding them in my hands like artifacts from another time.

Should I read them?

My mind races, torn between curiosity and a lingering sense of privacy. I decide to leave the letters on the desk and focus on the task at hand – disassembling the boxes. The cardboard gives way beneath my hands as I steal occasional glances at the mysterious letters. My curiosity is undeniable, but I push the tempting thoughts away. With the boxes flattened and ready for disposal, I head downstairs to discard them.

What harm could it do to read them?

I shake my head, attempting to dispel the intrusive thought. No, Mallory, stop thinking like that. Maybe Adam knows. I enter the apartment and dial his number. The phone rings, and his voice fills my ear, warm and familiar. "Hey, babe, what's up?"

"Hi, baby," I reply. "I was just unpacking the last boxes and found some letters in a book. I was wondering what they were. Can I read them?"

"Letters? What letters?" Adam sounds genuinely curious.

"I don't know. They were in Pride and Prejudice, fell out as I was flipping through the pages," I explain.

"No problem, babe. Read them. I don't think they're anything that important," he assures me.

"Thanks, baby," I say, feeling a mix of excitement and trepidation as we hang up.

What could they be?

Sitting on the chair, I carefully take a letter out and start reading. My heart sinks when I realize what they are.

Love letters.

Dear Ava,

I find myself at a loss for words as I attempt to pen down the overwhelming emotions that have been consuming me. My heart aches in your absence, and the mere thought of you brings a bittersweet longing to my soul.

Every passing day feels like an eternity without you by my side. I miss the warmth of your presence, the gentle cadence of your laughter that echoes in my mind. In the quiet moments, I find myself yearning for the symphony of your voice, the way it effortlessly weaves its way into the very fabric of my being.

I wish I could hold you close every day, feel the rhythm of our hearts syncing in harmony. The distance between us feels like an insurmountable chasm, and all I crave is the closeness that only you can provide. Your absence leaves a void that nothing else can fill.

Ava, my love for you is a force beyond my control, a tidal wave that sweeps me into the depths of devotion. You are the muse that inspires the poetry within my heart, the anchor that grounds me in a sea of emotions.

Desperately awaiting the day when I can hold you close again,

Yours forever, John

What the actual fuck?

With trembling hands I open the next letter and start reading it.

Dear Ava,

Your words reached the deepest corners of my soul, and I find myself compelled to respond to the emotions you laid bare in your letter. Your absence has left an indelible mark on my heart, and each day without you is a struggle against the yearning that courses through my veins.

The physical connection we share is a flame that burns with an intensity words cannot convey. The caress of your skin against mine is a language in itself, a dialogue of desire that speaks volumes without uttering a single word. Our bodies, entwined in the dance of passion, create a symphony that resonates with the pulsating rhythm of our hearts.

In the quiet hours of the night, I find myself reliving those moments—the warmth of your embrace, the taste of your lips, the exquisite intimacy that only we understand. It's a visceral connection that transcends the physical, an expression of love that goes beyond the boundaries of mere words.

Ava, you are the canvas upon which my desires paint the most exquisite masterpiece. Your touch is a revelation, an exploration of ecstasy that defies the constraints of the ordinary. I ache for the day when we can once again lose ourselves in the embrace of each other, where time stands still, and our love becomes the only reality that matters.

Eagerly anticipating the moment our worlds collide again,

Yours in love, John

Who is this guy? Is this for real?

Why is he writing like that?

I continue reading the rest of the letters. They are all from this guy named John, addressed to Adam's mother. The dates on them correspond to a time when she was with Adam's father. This is the proof we've been searching for, a revelation that sends shivers down my spine. Carefully, I place the last letter back into its envelope and slide the collection into the desk drawer, as if locking away a Pandora's box.

My heart beats erratically, caught in the turmoil of conflicting emotions. I don't know how to feel—anger, hope, sadness, relief—it's a tangled web of emotions. Adam will be devastated. Maybe I shouldn't tell him? But no, he has the right to know. His mother's actions have affected him deeply, as much as they've affected me and his father.

I rub the back of my neck, attempting to ease the tension that has settled there, when Adam's voice echoes through the apartment, calling out for me. He's back. I enter the living room to find him smiling at me.

"Hey, babe," he says, his eyes filled with warmth as he approaches me, wrapping his arms around me. "I missed you"

I force a smile, my mind still racing. "I missed you too" I say and Adam leans in and kisses me.

"So? Did you read those letters?"